Author's Notes:

· As you might expect this Chapter's gonna be a lil violent, and I'm not sure if I'm any good writing this kinda stuff, so… umm, we'll see?

· Read and Review.

Chapter 11: Conflict.

"Tifa, get my sword…" said Cloud, but he didn't bother to wait before attacking.

The spiky blonde-haired hero charged straight past Aerith, lunging at Sephiroth, one fist clenching as he did so, thrust directly into the enemy's jaw – a blow that would have killed most, simply stunned the silver-haired warrior, despite the sickening crunch of his jaw under Cloud's fist.

Sephiroth took an involuntary step backwards, but didn't defend himself, after all he had done, he deserved this. The next blow landed on Sephiroth's gut, the pain doubled him over on instinct, arms coming to hold his stomach, yet he welcomed it as sweet, sweet penance.

Cloud realised he had the upper hand, but wasn't surprised – after all, he had bested Sephiroth in the North Crater, and this time he had attacked quickly, without warning, he didn't stop to think why Sephiroth wasn't fighting back. His free hand wrapped itself in Sephiroth's long, silver hair, and lifted his face back, his own icy gaze filled with hatred as they looked into Sephiroth's eyes as his fist slammed into the man's ribs – not satisfied without the sound of bone snapping under the blow, he punched again…

It seemed a hundred blows had landed faster than Aerith could blink – she should have expected this, but she had been more worried about how they would react to her own presence, by the time she had even thought to protest, which was by no means slow, Tifa had already returned, holding one of the few of Cloud's swords she could carry – Murasame.

"Cloud, stop it! He's with me! Why aren't you listening?! He was protecting me!" Aerith screamed, Tifa seemed not to hear, and Sephiroth was too filled with the love of battle to listen…

Not satisfied without the sound of bone snapping under the blow, Cloud punched again, and was satisfied, then surged forward, his right leg hooking forward, round the legs of his enemy, pulling back, toppling him in a simple manoeuvre, and then there was Tifa, offering him Murasame, he took the sword, and levelled it with Sephiroth's throat.

Sephiroth simply smiled.

And then it sunk in, Sephiroth was not fighting back…

"Why aren't you defending yourself…?" hatred filled his voice, it seemed there was no one in his world now, except himself and his enemy, even Tifa had been nothing more than a hand holding his sword for him.

"I have caused enough pain, I wouldn't want to hurt you anymore… besides… this…," with his eyes he gestured to his own wounds, "this is what I deserve."

"Fight me… revenge is worthless if I can't defeat you." He was shaking with the hatred, years of trying to be like him, and then the betrayal, everything he had had, lost at Sephiroth's hands, he needed to remember - he was stronger now.

"No, I won't hurt innocents anymore."

"You remember when we last fought," Cloud sneered, "You don't need to worry about hurting me."

Indignation flared in Sephiroth's eyes – he would repent, but he would not, be called weak. Very well, he thought, if he wants a fight…

In flash, Masamune was drawn, pushing Murasame away from his throat, giving him room. Sephiroth rolled back, away from Cloud and flipped to his feet. Standing facing Cloud, he turned his face to one side, and spat, ridding himself of a loose tooth, ignoring the pain wracking his form.

"If it is what you want… come at me." A simple invitation and Cloud took it, lunging forward.

Steel clashed against steel as the two warriors began circling each other, beginning to feel alive again, fighting the first worthy opponent they had had in far too long. Cloud thrust and Sephiroth side-stepped gracefully, bringing Masamune in a horizontal arc towards Cloud's throat, Cloud brought Murasame up with a twist of his wrist, to knock Masamune aside.

Then, in a flash it was over, Sephiroth, with a deft flick of his wrists, spun Masamune about Murasame's blade, ducking, and forcing Cloud to do the same, once his sword was on the other side of Cloud's, he stepped back, and before Cloud could blink, had brought the blunt edge of Masamune across Cloud's knuckles.

"Fuck!" In natural reaction to the blow, Cloud's hand's opened, and Masamune's sharp edge was at Cloud's throat before the other sword could even touch the ground.

"Jenova was powerful… but she was unskilled. You defeated her, but you will never be more skilled than me, Cloud."

Sephiroth sheathed Masamune and realisation dawned in his eyes.

"I… I'll be back in a second…"

As Cloud shuffled off, to take Murasame back to its resting place, he was deep in thought – he had learned a lot about Sephiroth on the journey to hunt him, and he finally thought he understood what happened eight years ago, understood the Sephiroth he had faced just a moment ago, was the same he had known all those years ago – that the man who had taken everything from him was only Sephiroth in the physical sense. He had a lot of thinking to do.

Meanwhile Tifa's gaze was locked on Sephiroth – and she didn't have his understanding, all she saw was a man repentant of his sins, and he had hurt her too much for that to matter. He had killed her father, burned her home town to the ground, struck her down when she had tried to stop him. She needed revenge for that, had to make a physical effort not to shake with the anticipation.

"Aerith… could you go check on Cloud?"

They're gazes locked for a moment, suspicion in Aerith's gaze – Tifa was acting strange, she wondered if the younger woman could be trusted alone with Sephiroth, when he was so clearly just one accusation away from being suicidal.

On the other hand… Aerith's nature was to trust, and she didn't expect Tifa to be acting normal, when both of them had just come back from the dead, she didn't want to support conflict within the group… and she knew any voiced suspicions would work against that. She dropped her gaze and walked off to find Cloud…

Which left Sephiroth and Tifa alone, the smiles of those long kept from their desires flitted across both of their faces. Sephiroth saw the hatred in Tifa's eyes – pondered perhaps if that anger could outweigh her inclination her sense of right and wrong long enough to give him what he had been looking for since he awoke.

Tifa eyed Sephiroth for a while, now she could take what she had wanted – revenge. Yet she couldn't help but be slightly startled – already Sephiroth's jaw seemed to have reset itself, no more blood on his lips – he healed far too fast. No matter. She suspected he wouldn't fight back.

The moment she judged the others would be far enough not to hear, Tifa grabbed for Sephiroth's throat, held it, squeezed as hard as she could with both hands, choking the life from him.

He smiled, his eyes looked… grateful.

How can he want this, damnit, why doesn't he show regret, pain?! Yes, wrong as it was, she knew she wanted him to suffer, the hate welled, bloomed within her, her right hand left his throat, tears coming to her eyes as she struck at his face, three, four, five times in succession. Even the Great Sephiroth was seeing stars after those blows, dizzied.

She released his throat, put all her weight into a sixth blow to his chin, felling the silver-haired warrior, though he made no effort to stay on his feet. He lay on the ground, a smirk on his face, welcoming the darkness he hoped would come. He slid Masamune from its sheathe, threw it to her feet as if it were weightless – he liked the idea of poetic justice.

"Why don't you do it, Tifa? Finish what you attempted eight years ago…"

And, tears running down her cheeks at the memory of wrongs that should have been forgotten, tears of hatred, sorrow, shame, she did. She leaned down and raised the cumbersome sword, and plunged it into his chest.

As his own sword plunged between his ribs, neatly piercing his right lung and leaving through his ribs again, plunging, on its own weight, into the ground below, Sephiroth felt himself tense, and shudder with the pain, gasping, tasting blood in his throat, he swallowed, smiled, and let the darkness take him, as the world faded, he could just hear the voice of an Angel, seeming to whisper in the distance…

"Sephiroth… Tifa… How could you?!"

Aerith could only be glad she returned before Sephiroth returned, once again, to the Planet, she was shocked at the sight before her eyes, Tifa's hands still on Masamune's hilt, the sword protruding from a widening red patch on its fallen owner's form.

"Sephiroth… Tifa… How could you?!"

She ran forward, a green light already forming around her, hoping her magic could save him, but Tifa stood in her way, the green light of magic coming from her, she said simply, "Silence!"

And with that word, Aerith felt crushed, she had nothing on her to relieve herself from the magic-inhibiting spell, and without her magic, she couldn't help Sephiroth.

"Why are you doing this?! Let me help him!" She was distraught.

"He killed my father, so I killed him." Her words were firm, as her own tears cleared, brooking no argument…

Sephiroth was gone, and in his body, two forces that had fought since his rebirth, continued to do so, even as he faded away to nothing. In the darkness he was distinctly aware of the two forces, one seemed to be a warm, green light, the other angry, red. They seemed to be conversing. Yet the part of Sephiroth that was the Soldier, purely rational, understood that these perceptions were simply his interpreting them in a way he could understand, relating them to the senses he had had when alive.

He is dying. This cannot be.

Pity, that, you're strongest weapon against me, and now, he dies.

You claim him as your weapon as much as we claim him ours, Jenova.

Nevertheless, I shall see you all rot, soon.

Yet… neither of us wishes him to die.

True. This would not be a problem if, he was mine, I would not let him die.

Very well. A truce… for now.

Sephiroth knew these forces, and terror filled him as the green light faded, letting the red fill him, and the darkness began to fade. Just as he became certain he would not awaken as himself, he watched the green surge again, the titanic struggle for his soul resuming, he wondered what he would be when everything resumed.

"That is not the man who killed your father, let me help him!" she was filling with anger, now, despite her usually loving nature, there was no time to explain, he was dying. Her arm rose, bringing her open hand across Tifa's cheek. In her desperation, she didn't stop to think how she would heal him without magic.

"How – dare – you?!" Fury raged in Tifa's eyes. Tifa was stronger than Aerith, her blow knocked the older woman clear to the ground.

And this was the sight Sephiroth woke up to. His eyes opened calmly and he rose to his feet before surveying the situation. Tifa was… attacking Aerith. No, he wouldn't allow that. His hand shot out with the same unstoppable swiftness that had made him the most feared man on the Planet, fingers locked in Tifa's hair, yanking her from Aerith, turning her to face him, lifting her to tip-toe.

And hesitated, his thoughts racing. Kill them! Kill them all! No! Tifa… Tifa hurt Aerith… Then kill her! No one may cross you, all who anger you shall die, rivers of blood shall flow!

Tifa was shaking, seeing the fury and shakiness in Sephiroth's eyes, the sword, still in his chest. Sephiroth's emerald, glowing gaze darting around, eventually settling on Aerith as she sat up, smiling at him, relief in her eyes, as well as concern.

He lifted the young woman clean from her feet, ignoring her gasps of pain at being lifted by her hair, pulled her close, whispering calmly into her ear, his voice icy.

"You shall never – harm – Aerith. Ever. You may try, but you will not succeed, and I vow you will regret it if you do."

His words said, he simply tossed her aside, to land on the ground outside her home. Gritting his teeth behind closed lips, hiding the pain it caused from those around him, he pulled his sword from his chest, and sheathed it. Clenching his fists, it stung that he knew even an open wound, straight through his chest, would heal.

He walked quietly into the home, glad that he found an empty room quickly, claiming it as his own for now, he sat down on one of the beds and winced, gasping out in agony, now that he was alone.

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door, which shortly opened, admitting Aerith, who shut the door behind her. She looked to Sephiroth quietly for a moment, smiling softly. In spite of his pain, Sephiroth couldn't help but smile back gently.

"Lie down, Sephiroth, let me heal you," Aerith understood that Sephiroth would heal, was not too shocked, once it had happened that he survived, as she understood what he was, but she knew that wounds like that, fatal or not, would hurt, a lot.

"You don't need too, I heal quickly." Even as he said those words, he let himself drop onto his back with a relieved sigh, and an agonised gasp.

"Yes, but this is quicker, beside, I owe you for standing up for me out there…" she smiled sweetly as she said that.

To Sephiroth's logical mind, the statement was, simply, flawed, for if she hadn't attempted to heal him, he wouldn't have needed to protect her. Stunted as his humanity was though, Sephiroth understood, to an extent that Aerith was trying to offer him a way out, without arguing for the sake of his pride. He took it.

As green light washed over him, he let out a sigh, feeling all his wounds bind, his body refreshed, yet he didn't bother sitting up, even now that he could – it was getting late, anyway, after all.

"Aerith…"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"It was nothing, Sephiroth."

"Not for that, for… everything, you've tried so hard to save me, even when there are no rewards… even when I lose control… and try to…" he paused, found another set of words he couldn't make himself say, "try to hurt you. Thank you, you're truly an angel amongst mankind…" His eyes were shut as he spoke, unsure if it was because he wanted to sleep, or because he simply couldn't look at her while being so… open.

As Aerith listened, she smiled, feeling tears welling in her eyes at the joy brought simply by a little honest thanks. She wondered why it affected her so, why it was so rare for someone to thank her for her efforts, and pressed her lips to his hair, as a mother might to her son, whispering…

"No, thank you, Sephiroth," before departing to one of the other beds in the room, wondering if he had heard her words.

The next day, of course, things were… awkward. Sephiroth and Cloud sat in the swords' display room, Masamune and Murasame laid against their respective laps, looking so similar, yet so different, talking. Or rather, for the most part, Sephiroth talked, and Cloud listened.

Aerith spent most of her time in the guest bedroom, not talking to Tifa due to the tension left over from the previous night, Tifa, still holding a grudge, not daring to go near Aerith – she was no coward, but there were some things no sane woman would cross – and a man who could survive two pummelings and a sword through the chest, and still retain the strength to lift a human from the ground with one hand, that was definitely among them.

Back in the swords room, the two former enemies, former allies talked…

"I think I understand, now. Jenova controlled you, used you as… your avatar, I guess? Tried to use me in the same way? Then, how come she could control you… and not me?"

"Your comrades gave you a strength that I, in my naivety, shunned." They were both completely calm, two veteran warriors talking, all former quarrels forgotten, temporarily, at least, in the face of understanding.

"I see. But Jenova was… unskilled… so when we defeated everything she could throw at us… and she tried to use you to defeat me in a duel…"

"You destroyed me. Easily." There was pain in his eyes, but he understood now that, while he was needed, there were other ways he could repay his debts.

"Which brings us to one last thing… How are you and Aerith alive?"

"I can't say, but it is our belief that the Planet brought us back because we are needed. I am one of the strongest warriors to have ever lived, and she, the last Cetra, it seems logical we would be… useful. That, and the Planet guided us here, to you. Battle is our home."

"Then… what are we going to fight?" Even as he asked the question, he knew the answer.

"Jenova, which brings me to my question… do you have a means of travel?"

"Yes, we still have the Highwind… Cid left it with us…"

Sephiroth nodded, it all made sense now. "I thought so, then we have to gather your comrades…"

Cloud nodded, it was strange, but just talking with Sephiroth, so much more like the man he had looked up to years ago, yet wiser, having learned from his fall at Jenova's hands, it was almost as if the previous eight years had never happened.

-End Chapter 11-

Author's Notes:

· I'm tired as hell now, but all in all, I'm quite happy with that Chapter. Not sure about how the fighting came out, but forgive me if I feel a little pride at the last couple of scenes, and now everything's coming into place. If I follow my plan, there'll be five more chapters…

· Review me, or I'll kill Aerith :P